'I fought hellish Grenfell blaze - I'll never forget horror warning'

EXCLUSIVE: 'I fought hellish Grenfell blaze - I'll never forget horror warning' WARNING DISTRESSING CONTENT: Nine years ago, on June 14, 2017, ex-firefighter Ricky Nuttall was among the brave individuals who walked into the blazing Grenfell Tower in the summer of 2017. What he saw that day continues to haunt him Nine years ago, on the evening of June 14, 2017, Ricky Nuttall and his fellow West London firefighters were awoken in the early hours and sent into a living nightmare. The tragedy of Grenfell Tower remains one of Britain's most haunting catastrophes. For those at the scene, it was hell on Earth. As a firefighter, Ricky was used to going from "being asleep in your pants to being fully rigged and driving a fire engine" in 60 seconds. By the time he reached the watch room, the slip was still printing because of the extensive resources required to extinguish the monster blaze awaiting them. Ricky told The Mirror: "We knew from that point it was a big job. It was actually a working fire. And it was going to be a long night." The firefighters swooped across North Kensington to the 24-storey, 60s-era Grenfell Tower, a looming Brutalist building that housed around 600 people. Remembering his earliest impressions of the now infamous scene, Ricky, 44, recalled: "It was obvious from the outset, that the building wasn't reacting as it should do to the fire. It was a very dynamic incident in every sense. It was a chaotic scene at the start, but it was what I always refer to as organised chaos." Ricky witnessed people being pulled from the burning building, bits of which were falling down all around. One fire engine nearly caught alight after smouldering debris landed on it. He remembers being "in a sort of queue to go into the tower" for the first briefing. The harrowing scenes that unfolded next made it clear this was no ordinary fire. Ricky said: "When we first arrived, and we're standing in the lobby area, one of the first things I saw was three firefighters carrying out two girls who looked around between sort of 11 and 14. "They were on their backs, limp, unconscious, not breathing, with black soot coming out the corners of their mouths and black soot coming out their nostrils. Not alive. And as the first two firefighters carried the girls past us, the third firefighter made eye contact with me randomly, and he just stopped and said to me, 'Be careful in there'." He continued: "A firefighter's never said that to me at a job before, and never has since, up to the day I left. It really sort of rammed home, 'right, I'm going to see some stuff in here that I've not seen before', even in the 15 years I've already been in the fire brigade at this point. "I'm going to experience stuff I've not experienced, and I'm going to have to really be on my toes to make sure that I manage to come out of this and hopefully manage to save some people as well. Thankfully, those two girls were resuscitated outside, and they survived the night, unlike, unfortunately, 72 other people." The charred wreckage of Grenfell continues to prompt a shudder, but images alone do nothing to convey what it was really like to walk into the building as it boiled and crumbled. Painting a picture of the scorching depths of Grenfell, Ricky remembered: "The building was failing around firefighters. For me, at one point on the 15th floor, I was running out of air, and it was 550 °C. You could feel your skin burning inside your fire gear. You're running out of air. You haven't got water at this point. The fire is burning above you, below you, and from both sides. I think most firefighters that night at one point or another had a belief that they wouldn't be coming away from this job alive." There were countless acts of heroism, both from firefighters and residents, who took enormous risks in their desperation to save unreachable loved ones. Going "above and beyond all of the health and safety protocols", courageous London Fire Brigade members removed demand valves from masks, "breathing in toxic hot fire gases" before replacing the valve when it became unimaginably hard to breathe. This was so "they could preserve a tiny bit more air", allowing them to "go a little bit further into what was already a horrendously dangerous fire". Having worked well beyond sunrise, the firefighters finished their shifts at around 2 pm. But the psychological aftermath was just beginning. Having survived "the most fatal fire that London has experienced since the Blitz", Ricky found the initial counselling offered perplexing, however well-intentioned. He reflected: "I was greeted by a very lovely lady by all accounts, but nonetheless, a lady sat there saying, 'How are you feeling?' And I remember laughing and going, 'I don't know yet. I haven't got the first clue yet how I'm feeling'." "A very swift but gradual decline into PTSD and depression" ensued. Ricky revealed: "I got really, really, really angry over really, really, really tiny things. I thought it was because those tiny things were big things. "I didn't think it was because my reaction was disproportionate to what had happened." Ricky's mental health struggles drove away friends and, sadly, led to his marriage breakdown. At the fire station, Ricky was surrounded by people who understood what he was going through; however, the pain lingered. Then, one "dull" and "dreary" autumn day, he realised he was in "big trouble". After getting up from the sofa to fetch some water, Ricky ended up "slumping to the floor" in tears. It wasn't unusual for Ricky to cry, but this time felt "different". Ricky explained: "It wasn't like a gentle, you know, tear rolling down the cheek. It was sorrowful and full of pain. And it was the crying you do at a funeral. And I was just uncontrollable. I was just crying and crying and crying. I sat on that floor for hours, and I could not stop crying. "In that moment, I thought, 'This is how I'm going to feel for the rest of my life. This isn't going to change'. Then I thought, 'Well, if that's true, why would I want to live the rest of my life?' That was the first moment that I started thinking about whether or not I should take my own life." Shocked into action, Ricky called his parents, who urged him to phone his GP. He did so, and "by some miracle," a last-minute cancellation meant he could be seen in 15 minutes. The doctor quickly suspected post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and advised Ricky to start taking antidepressants as a first step. Ricky was surprised by how effective the medication was when paired with counselling, which he admits he'd previously not made best use of - spending sessions focusing on the wrong things, including his split with his ex-partner, who he now regards as a "fantastic friend". Ricky explained: "Now, the only way I can really fully explain this is with an analogy I use when I deliver talks to people, which is PTSD felt to me like a dark room with no doors, no windows, and no light. No way out, no hope. Having counselling was like someone cut a skylight into the ceiling. So, now some light's getting in, and I've got a little bit of hope because I can see a way out, but it's in the ceiling. "I can't reach the skylight. So, it's actually a bit frustrating. I can see that there's a way out, but I can't quite get there. Going on the anti-depressants as well as the counselling meant the skylight stayed open, but the anti-depressants were like someone lowered in a footstep. Now I can reach the skylight." Now employed by Govia Thameslink Railway (GTR), mental health advocate and published poet Ricky is in a new relationship. Finding his happiness again wasn't "a steady staircase", with plenty of hurdles along the way. But Ricky's managed to rebuild his life, using his experiences to help others. If you're struggling and need to talk, the Samaritans operate a free helpline open 24/7 on 116 123. Alternatively, you can email [email protected] or visit their site to find your local branch Do you have a story to share? Email me at [email protected]